Faith
by Gnomie897
Summary: The Apocolypse has been averted; the angels had no rules to play by anymore. Add that to an empty throne and you get anarchy. Two factions have been formed: Rafael's angels and everyone else. But not everyone's faith has been lost. Castiel/OC


I do not own the character of Castiel [sadly], the character of Rafael, nor do I own the story line driving both of them. The unnamed angel does belong to me, but all others belong to Erik Kripke - the genius behind Supernatural. I am merely playing in his sandbox, so to speak.

Drop me a review, let me know what you think :D

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The blade was cool against her neck, but its edge did not cut her. He was waiting, his eyes trained on her face as she drank in the situation. _I'm going to die_. The thought flashed repeatedly through her head; each time its meaning became more arbitrary. _So what?_ Her subconscious questioned fiercely.

"Do it," she growled at him. She even went as far as to tilt her head back to expose more of her neck to him. His eyes flickered from his blade to her eyes, his lips already drawn downwards in a grimace of distaste. He didn't want to do this. _Poor him_. "Come on!" she urged savagely. The hand he had buried in her hair loosened and fell away. "If you don't kill me, I'll kill you. _Do it_!" The blade slipped harmlessly from her neck., leaving nothing but a white line in its wake.

"No," he breathed. Her own breath escaped from her lungs with a loud _whoosh_, but her eyes never left his.

"You-" His blade clattered to the ground and he stepped back, his hands raised in surrender.

"I don't _want_ to kill," he stated, his voice cracked and tired. "I don't _want_ to murder, and I don't want to harm you, sister." His voice dropped drastically, his teeth bared in a mixture of anger and pain. "It doesn't have to be this way; angels killing angels. But none of you, _none_ of you, listen. How are we better than humans? We succumb to the same blind hatred, the same ugly selfishness, the same sins as the worst of their kind. Yet we have no love, no sense of family, no moral point that the best of them possess." She bristled from pride, raising herself to her knees to glare at him.

"Rafael-"

"Can no better lead than he can love." Her words died in her throat, any defense for her leader lost in the brutal honesty of his tone. They looked at each other in silent, her gaze intense and his completely exhausted.

"You think you can?" she finally asked. He looked offended by the question.

"I don't want to," he replied. "The host of Heaven has only one true leader, and that leader will return despite the doubt in most of his children." This time his voice was unquestionable, his eyes so determined that the thought of not believing him nearly caused her physical pain.

"How can you believe that after all of this?" Her voice did not hold the same powers his had. Where he was confident, she was lost.

"Because I have _seen_ love," he answered, stepping forward to kneel in front of her. "I have seen God's hand in all of this and he is _here_." The conviction in his voice, the absolute awe in his eyes brought tears to her own. "He never left us; we only thought he had."

"The apocalypse, Joshua," she stammered through her excuses, but he only shook his head.

"I do not know why," he said softly. "But faith asks us to leaver our questions, does it not?" Before she could make to respond, his head snapped up and his eyes became distant. "Dean," he said softly before he vanished, leaving her with the sound of restless feathers.

Within seconds they arrived, a clap of thunder signaling the strongest among them. The doors burst open and they filed in around her, blades drawn and stances battle ready. As Rafael approached her, she dropped her head.

"Who?"

"Castiel." A hiss of distaste rippled through the surrounding angels, but died when Rafael raised his hand. She flinched away when he crouched in front of her. "He left." A cold finger lifted her chin so that he could look into her tear streaked face.

The disgust on his own face was prominent, but he forced his own smile in an attempt to be comforting. She saw only the lie. "Where did he go, my child?" The voice was syrupy sweet, persuading, but a deeper more convicted voice still rang in her ears. She licked her lips and clenched her jaw, once again raising her chin in defiance.

"I am _not_ your child."

The blade was cold against her neck, and this time it did not falter.


End file.
